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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560767">Like Lovers in a Bathtub</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/torinosu/pseuds/torinosu'>torinosu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>90’s au, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Horror AU, Recreational Drug Use, Spooning, Take a drink every time someone says fuck, Underage Drinking, it’s about the Yearning, too much swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:41:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,497</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560767</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/torinosu/pseuds/torinosu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie’s house has to be fumigated, Ben likes Bev, Bill doesn’t like basements, and apart from street fighter boy and some very unfortunate fleeting feelings for Henry Bowers, there wasn’t anyone else Richie ever had any kind of crush on, except Eddie.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Like Lovers in a Bathtub</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It’s set around 1995 and they’re all about 17 (take it with a pinch of salt)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie had a crush on a boy younger than him for a grand total of two weeks. He’d see him playing street fighter in the afternoons that spring, and built up his skills (and the courage to ask the boy for a game) </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The boy had looked at him wide-eyed and panicked when Richie tried to touch his hand, though, and that was that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Apart from street fighter boy and some very unfortunate fleeting feelings for Henry Bowers that came from a depraved dream in which the mullet-headed asshole was pinning him against a wall with a knee pressed between Richie’s legs, there wasn’t anyone else Richie ever had any kind of crush on, except Eddie. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie is much more than a passing fancy or a dirty dream, though, the word ‘crush’ sounds dumb in the face of Richie’s feelings. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Which is probably why Richie does something stupid.</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie’s house has to be fumigated. Termites, apparently. Richie has the feeling Eddie’s mom is being paranoid again. But for once he keeps his mouth shut about that, because as Eddie is lamenting the fact that he has to spend three whole days in a hotel room with his mom while the exterminator does his thing, Richie’s treacherous trash mouth says, “you can stay with me if you want” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He plays it off with a shrug but everyone still stares at him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In your parent’s basement?” Eddie asks and Bill pulls a face because he has a thing about basements. Richie’s not surprised though, Bill’s parent’s basement is a clichéd creepy storage room that’s prone to flooding in the rainy season, anyone would be freaked out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie’s basement is cool. He’s got everything a guy would need. He just got a new mini-fridge, even.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure. They won’t mind” he says, “it’s not like they ever go down there” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nobody should ever go down there” Stanley says, “it fucking stinks”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Eddie chews his lip, furrows his brow, and says “okay”</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie stands in the doorway like he’s never been in Richie’s room before. He’s clutching his overnight bag in one hand and gripping his backpack strap with the other.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you waiting for?” Richie says, “your mom’s not here, I don’t let her stay the night after we fuck”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up” Eddie exhales shakily and descends the steps into the basement proper.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be dramatic” Richie says, “I cleaned”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You did <em>not</em> clean!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I changed the sheets” he gestures to his bed and then almost has a heart attack at the horror that crosses Eddie’s face because, fuck, did he think Richie was inviting him to <em>share the bed</em>?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In case you wanted the bed and I can take the couch” Richie says much too loudly, “don’t get any ideas, perv” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re disgusting” Eddie says as he flops down onto the old striped couch that sags in the middle. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie’s heartbeat is loud in his ears as he laughs. </span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They listen to Nevermind on Stanley’s portable CD player and Bill makes fun of the fact that Richie is still depressed about Kurt Cobain. Bev’s head is on Bill’s shoulder and her hand is resting lightly on his thigh. Richie is one hundred percent sure that they’re actually fucking now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mike left half an hour ago, shrugging and complaining that his grandpa never lets him have a whole day off. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ben hasn’t shown up again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey guys” Bev says, pulling a baggie with a couple of rolled joints in it out of her tiny backpack, “want some?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If I wanted my lungs to be full of shit I could have just stayed at home while they fumigate” Eddie pipes up from the hammock. One of his skinny legs is hanging over the side. Richie tries hard not to look at it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bill still swears he saw a freaky clown last time we smoked” Richie says, “weed isn’t even a hallucinogen, asshole”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s a big word for you, trash mouth” Stan says. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s not the only thing I’ve got that’s big, Stanley!” Richie fires back, and he feels comfortable for the first time in a while. </span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he and Eddie walk home he feels light and his limbs feel like they’re stuffed with straw. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re such a fucking stoner” Eddie says, even though Richie knows he had a couple of tokes too, and is probably feeling the same, “you smell like an armpit” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s weird, walking home with Eddie. Their houses are in opposite directions from the clubhouse. If Richie’s brain didn’t feel like cotton wool, maybe he wouldn’t be thinking about holding Eddie’s hand so much. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie stumbles a little and their shoulders brush, and it would be so easy, just to reach over, maybe pull him close. He could blame it on his high. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead he laughs, says, “enjoy your trip?” And laughs more as Eddie scowls and swears at him until they reach Richie’s basement and fall asleep fully clothed beside each other on the couch.</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie wakes up with a dry mouth and Eddie’s face pressed into his neck. He almost has an aneurysm. It seems his offer to let Eddie stay with him will be the final nail in his coffin, the thing that finishes him off for good. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie’s arm is draped across Richie’s chest and Richie can feel hot puffs of breath on his throat. His bladder is screaming at him but he doesn’t want to move. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eds” he says softly, “Eddie” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie inhales loudly through his nose and bolts upright, narrowly avoiding headbutting Richie in the face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes are so wide they look like they’re going to fall out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m never smoking again” he says, “I had a dream that I married my mom” </span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They’re in the clubhouse again, more specifically, they’re in the hammock, because Richie is too stubborn to give up his seat and Eddie is too stubborn to acquiesce. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He keeps flinching every time Richie’s feet stray a little too close to his face, and Richie is trying to concentrate on his comic and definitely not think about the fact that he can see so much of Eddie’s thighs because his shorts are so <em>fucking short</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Will you quit it!?” Eddie screeches, smacking Richie’s foot with so much force his leg ends up hanging over the edge of the hammock. It’s just the two of them, and it’s a humid afternoon, the kind of summer day that brings a particular kind of lethargy. The air is sticky even underground.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You could always just, I dunno, sit somewhere else” Richie shrugs nonchalantly, moving his leg back to rest his foot languidly near Eddie’s chest. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you <em>fucking</em> kidding me?” Eddie says as Richie uses his socked toes to push his chin up. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know what?” Eddie says sitting up a little straighter, “you need to learn how to compromise” he climbs out of the hammock, leaving it swinging lazily, and just as Richie thinks he’s conceded defeat, Eddie climbs back on, and settles himself between Richie’s legs, his back against Richie’s chest and his ass a little too close to Richie’s dick for comfort.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing?” Richie asks, hoping his voice isn’t as hysterical as his thoughts and oh, fuck, what if Eddie can feel his erratic heartbeat.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Eddie doesn’t say anything, just reaches over his shoulder and plucks Richie’s comic book from his hands and settles back against him, holding the comic out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you see it?” He says eventually and Richie dares let himself relax with Eddie’s weight against him. He feels warm through the fabric of his T-shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah. Turn the page though, I’m on the next one, now” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie rests his head back against Richie’s collarbone and he’s so warm and soft and Richie can’t even concentrate on the speech bubbles and panels in front of him because his brain is short circuiting. </span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One of the best parts about Richie’s basement is that even on the hottest summer days it stays pretty cool, so most days he doesn’t bother to leave at all.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He and Eddie played Mario Kart for a while (on Eddie’s Super Nintendo that he’d packed into his overnight bag, because Eddie’s a spoilt brat) and now they’re just lounging, bored, but too lazy to do anything about it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why don’t we call the others?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie shrugs one shoulder.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ben won’t show if Bill and Bev are coming” he says, “it’s Wednesday so Mike’s working” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know, you’ve kind of had a downer on Bev and Bill lately, too”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie looks at him, sidelong, “I think you’re jealous” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Jesus Christ, Eds” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well” Eddie shrugs, “you haven’t even had a crush on anyone for ages, unless you count Kurt Cobain” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I liked him as an artist!” Richie yells, “<em>that’s</em> why I cried when we found out- wait, <em>what</em>?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That kid at the arcade I could understand, you know” Eddie shivers, his eyes wide, “but that thing you had for Bowers, man, that was weird”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie feels like the floor has been pulled out from under him, maybe even like his asshole has fallen out. There’s a tugging in his guts and he feels cold all over, and Eddie’s just looking at him with his big brown eyes like he hasn’t just caused all this.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Richie grinds out eventually and his voice sounds far away. He’s got white noise in his ears.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie’s looking at him like he’s crazy, “it’s not a big deal” he says, “do you want to play mortal kombat?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie wants to drop it, he really does, but, “you can’t just spring that on me and then change the subject!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re denying it” Eddie shrugs again, “so obviously you don’t want to talk about it”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How did you find out?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I just noticed, okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie throws his hands up, because, <em>fuck no</em>, he’s not dropping it now, “has anyone else noticed?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t think so” Eddie’s eyes are all wide again and there’s a blush slowly creeping up his neck. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How can you be sure? If <em>you</em> noticed, one of the others could have noticed, maybe Bill or Stan or...or...” Richie’s voice is edging on hysteria.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“None of them watch you as closely as I do!” Eddie half-yells over Richie’s tirade, and then clamps his mouth shut, and Richie thinks he might be having a stroke because, fuck, that sounds like a <em>declaration. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie’s staring at Richie and Richie’s staring back. It feels like an eternity passes before Eddie goes to kneel in front of the Nintendo. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stop being quiet” Eddie says eventually, his back still facing Richie, “it’s weird”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey” Richie says when his brain feels connected to the rest of his body again, “come here a sec”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie looks over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not gonna do anything weird, okay? Just come here”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie approaches the couch cautiously until he reaches the edge, and Richie takes his skinny little arm and manoeuvres him so they’re sitting sideways on it, Richie’s back against the armrest and Eddie with his back against Richie’s chest, just like how they sat on the hammock. He rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He exhales shakily.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For once, Eddie says nothing. </span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, so it looks like I’m staying here a little longer” Eddie says when Richie answers the door, “my mom is convinced that the exterminator guys didn’t do a good enough job so she’s got another company in to fumigate again” he rolls his eyes, “the house is going to be so gross with all those chemicals” He sniffs the air, “your room isn’t much better”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Weed isn’t a chemical” Stan says from where he’s sat cross-legged on Richie’s floor, “it’s a plant. It’s all natural” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“True” says Ben. He’s starting to thin out a little bit, it’s a good look for him. Not that Richie’s looking. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So your house is going to look like a circus tent for another few days?” Mike says, leaning back on his hands.</span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Hey” Richie says, rejoining them on the floor, “maybe we should lure Bill there and dress up like clowns to scare him. Though we’d have to tear him away from Beverly’s pus...” </span> <span class="s1">Ben’s face drops, “aw, man, sorry”</span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Stan and Eddie cringe, and Mike pats Ben’s shoulder awkwardly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No it’s okay” Ben says with a huge sigh, “I need to get over it. I can’t keep avoiding them and writing sad poetry”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie feels his face split into a grin, “poetry!?”</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ben writes <em>poetry</em>” Richie says to his dark ceiling. He hears a shuffle from across the room. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re still on that? Didn’t you make fun of him enough when he was here?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, it’s very on-brand for him, don’t you think? The sensitive guy” Richie sighs dramatically, “the chicks’ll be all over him in college”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s silence from the other end of the room until he hears the sound of Eddie getting up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your shitty couch is destroying my back” he says, “I’m coming over there”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s too dark to see anything properly plus Richie’s obviously not wearing his glasses in bed. He can barely make out Eddie’s silhouette as he crosses the room. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The mattress dips and creaks a little as Eddie settles in next to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, do you really think Ben’ll be okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie shrugs but then realises Eddie probably can’t see it, “I dunno. I guess in time he’ll just get over it. Unless Bev dumps Bill and moves onto him” he huffs, smirking at the thought.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can he just get over it? Is it that easy?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you asking me? I don’t fucking know, Eds” Richie says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The group’s falling apart already”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And, god, Eddie sounds so fucking sad.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, look” Richie says in his desperation to make Eddie <em>not</em> sad, “the group’s not falling apart. Losers for life, right? I bet we’ll still be friends when we’re like, forty, and Beverly’s got her shit together and is fucking Ben” he snorts, “and you’ve married some chick that’s just like your mom and I’m... I’ll be...” he stops, because he honestly doesn’t know how to finish that train of thought.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll have someone” Eddie says, like Richie’s some sad middle aged woman lamenting that she’s always the bridesmaid, never the bride.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fucking...no. We’re not doing this, Eddie. Go the fuck to sleep”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know none of us care, right? I don’t...I don’t <em>care</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie turns so he’s laying on his side with his back to Eddie and says nothing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a good while of tense silence until he feels Eddie’s arm snake across his middle. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t be a dick, I know you’re awake” Eddie mumbles sleepily, “bend your knees” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie does, and Eddie fits himself behind him. His brain overheats because, fuck, who would have thought little Eddie Spaghetti would make such a good big spoon, but he actually manages to fall asleep before he thinks about it too much.</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sunlight creeps through the tiny basement window and Richie stirs awake with Eddie’s forehead pressed against the back of his neck and his hands fisted in the front of Richie’s faded In Utero T-shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, so, I probably farted on your dick in my sleep, huh?” he says, his morning voice gravelly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shut up” Eddie mumbles, “there’s like two layers of fabric between your ass and my dick, dick”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Only</em> two layers, Richie’s brain suggests, and it doesn’t help his morning wood situation at all. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Neither does Eddie holding onto to him a fraction tighter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Urgh” Eddie groans, and oh, that <em>really</em> doesn’t help, “I have to go see my mom today”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you feel that way about it, just flake”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I can’t” Eddie says into the space between Richie’s shoulder blades, “she’ll freak out and call the cops on you for kidnapping me or something”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s a knock at the door and they both jolt upright. Richie scrambles for the nightstand and puts his glasses on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yo, R-Richie” Bill’s muffled voice sounds from outside the basement, “it’s One PM, don’t t-tell me you’re still sleeping, we got the g-good s-s-shit so let us i-in”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie move quicker than he does then, throwing himself across the room to get back to the couch. Something heavy settles somewhere inside Richie’s ribcage.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t care, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie shoots him a glare, “you know what I meant, asshole”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh I think I know exactly what you meant, <em>asshole</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just as Richie opens the door to a bewildered looking Bill and Beverly, Eddie shoves past them all and stalks off.</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The ‘good shit’ turns out to be an entire bottle of vodka that has these weird gold flakes in it that Bill swiped from the very back of his parents’ liquor cabinet. He swears it’s been in there for like, two years so they’ll never even notice it’s gone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So w-what’s up with you and E-Eddie?” Bill ventures after the three of them have demolished almost the whole bottle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie’s mind goes straight to the spooning and he almost chokes on his swig. He lowers the bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I dunno” he says, “just a stupid fight. He always gets his panties in a twist after I spend the night with his mom”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bev narrows her eyes a little, lifts her head and looks down on him like she knows something, and yeah, maybe it’s been bothering him, the fight with Eddie, the fact that Eddie apparently watches him, the fucking <em>hugging</em>, or whatever it is they’ve been doing, but he’s not about to let either of them know any of it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well at l-least he’ll be out of your h-h-hair tomorrow” Bill says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The exterminator w-will be done, r-right?” He smiles wryly, “unless Mrs K-k...Eddie’s mom makes them do it again”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Third time’s a charm!” Richie says in his British Guy voice. He passes the bottle back to Bill and stares at a burn mark on his carpet until the vodka kicks in and makes him dizzy.</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At some point they migrate to the clubhouse, because they collectively decide to smoke a bowl but Richie doesn’t want to stink out his room again. Totally <em>not</em> because Eddie wouldn’t like the smell, fuck that noise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie turns up later, climbing down the ladder in his little shorts and glowering at the three of them. They’re all just piled onto one dusty beanbag chair, too drunk and stoned and ornery to move.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Speak of the devil” Richie says in his Southern Pastor voice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“W-we weren’t talking about E-Eddie, though” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got some left?” Eddie says, holding his hand out for the piece. They all exchange a look because Richie can count on one hand the amount of times Eddie has volunteered to smoke with them, well, he didn’t even need a hand to count to two, and both of those were because- </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What did she say to you this time?” He asks, and Eddie just stares at him for a beat with big round cow eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Same old shit” he says taking a toke.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well which one is it?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Same old shit. Mostly about you guys being a bad influence. She still blames Bev, mostly, for that time I broke my arm” Eddie waves the piece a little, his voice pitching up “and she wouldn’t even drive me back to Richie’s, I had to walk down fucking Neibolt by myself in the dark. You guys are aware it’s <em>dark</em>, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie glances at Bev.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my god” Eddie says. He sits cross-legged on the floorboards beside the beanbag and Richie notices that he keeps a distance so his knee isn’t touching Richie’s at all.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I should probably go, anyway” Bev says with a glance between Richie and Eddie, and then a look at Richie which he’s learnt over the years means ‘we’ll talk about this later’, “my aunt’s probably getting worried” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She nudges Bill until they both untangle themselves from Richie and the beanbag chair, and once they disappear up the ladder, it’s just Richie and Eddie.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...so your mom was giving you shit, huh?” Richie says after the silence gets painful.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah” Eddie heaves a sigh, “she really hates the fact that I’m staying with you”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Because I’m gay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As soon as he says it, it’s like the world stops completely. Like a movie scene where the character says some heavy dialogue and the sound cuts out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kind of wishes he could take it back, because it tastes dry on his tongue, like ash. Beverly dropped one of her cigarettes earlier and it’s on the floor by Richie’s leg. He fiddles with it. He’s not one for cancer sticks usually, but he’s considering lighting it, because Eddie’s just staring at him with his eyes so wide they look like they’ll fall out of their sockets.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“She doesn’t...I don’t think...she doesn’t know that” Eddie says, so quiet it’s almost a whisper.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You sure? Seems like I’ve been a little <em>obvious</em>, lately” it comes out more bitter than he means it. He picks up the empty vodka bottle “maybe this gold vodka garbage will make me shit glitter, then I’ll be even more of a fa-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t!” Eddie screeches and Richie drops the bottle. It smashes against the boards and a shard of it slices open his finger.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck!” He pulls his hand back to his chest and gets a smear of blood across the front of his T-shirt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie grabs his hand, and looks at his finger. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You fucking idiot” he says, “I <em>told</em> Ben we needed a first aid kit in here” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Knowing Stan, there probably is one squirrelled away somewhere”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“True” Eddie looks up and his face is close to Richie’s.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You should probably go sit over there, in case Bill and Beverly come back. Wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie sets his jaw and gets that determined look in his eyes he gets sometimes. Usually when he’s trying to get his own way when the group are making plans, or when he’s losing at Mario kart. He shuffles onto his feet and then flops onto the beanbag chair, settling himself between Richie’s legs. He pulls Richie’s arms around him and then wraps his bleeding finger in the bottom of his T-shirt, applying pressure. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t bleed to death, idiot” he mutters and the tips of his ears are scarlet. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie presses his forehead against the back of Eddie’s head, “there’s blood all over your shirt. You’re gonna have to like, burn it after this”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He picks up the cigarette in his free hand, and twirls it between his fingers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re not gonna smoke that, are you? That’s fucking gross”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I might. You’re not my mom, though with the way things are going with me and <em>your</em> mom, I might be your new dad, soon”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie sighs so deeply it sounds like his entire soul leaves his body, “so you’re gay, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie squeezes his eyes shut with his face still buried in Eddie’s hair, “I guess so” he says and it’s a little more breath than voice, but this was never the way he’d planned to do this, if at all.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, “you sound kinda funny” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie wants to laugh, because he doesn’t feel like he’ll ever be ok again. He’s dizzy with how much he wants to kiss Eddie. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“A little lightheaded I guess” he says after way too long, and only because Eddie’s shoulders tense. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit. What if it’s blood loss?” He unwraps Richie’s hand from his shirt and peers at it, holding it in both of his hands and turning it this way and that. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck” Richie groans and he wonders if the beams above them are strong enough to hang himself from.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Does it hurt?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah it hurts real bad” Richie says, and clenches his fist over Eddie’s fingers, “I fucking love you”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To his credit, Eddie doesn’t throw himself across the room in a desperate bid to get away from Richie, and he doesn’t start swearing at him. He tenses, and then says, “I’m kinda hungry. Must be the weed” as if he’s not sitting on Richie’s lap, holding his hand, as if Richie hasn’t just bared his entire fucking soul.</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie stays on the sofa that night, and by the time Richie wakes up the next morning, he’s gone.</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You stink” Bev says, and it cuts through Richie’s three day stupor enough to make him wonder how the fuck she got in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I asked your mom for the spare key” she grins and dangles the key ring from her finger. Beverly could probably charm anyone into getting what she wants.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She looks at him, then, knowingly. Richie groans and shoves his face into his pillow before mumbling, “he left. He just packed up his shit and went” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...yeah? The exterminators were done on his house”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He lifts his head and squints at Bev, “you know what I fucking mean”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t” she says, sitting on the very edge of his bed and wrinkling her nose, “because I haven’t seen either of you in three days. God, when boys sulk they really do <em>sulk</em>, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m <em>not</em> sulking” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I could probably guess what the problem is” she says and that makes him sit up and look at her, “but I’d rather you tell me yourself”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She’s been wearing her hair to her jawline these days, sometimes puts half of it up in a knot on top of her head and she’s all band shirts, converse high tops and faded flannel. The grunge thing looks good on her, Richie thinks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you going to do about Eddie?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I dunno, Bev” he feels annoyance flare up inside him, “what’re <em>you</em> going to do about <em>Ben</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She purses her lips, and then grins, “so you admit it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That your feelings for Eddie are the same as Ben’s feelings for me”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“...no?”Shit, Richie thinks, he walked right into that one. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why is everyone suddenly so obsessed with my feelings?” He says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Beverly shrugs, and pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the little pocket on the front of her dungarees. She shakes two out of the pack and hands one to Richie. He runs a hand through his greasy hair and takes it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I only really noticed after you invited him to stay with you” she says after they’ve both lit up, “it was very out of character for you”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, I’m a nice guy” Richie says in his Marlon-Brando-in-The Godfather voice. Beverly raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey! You know that Ben likes you?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah” Bev says, “he wrote me a poem a few years back” Richie grins, “...I thought it was from Bill”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh man, he’s got it bad” Richie laughs but it fades when Bev frowns at him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So” she says, “what’s up with you and Eddie?” She passes him another cigarette and the lighter. Richie just stares down at it between his fingers. <em>Fucking gross</em>, Eddie had said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I fucking told him I loved him” he blurts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Loved?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, <em>love</em>, as in, currently. Have been for fucking <em>ever</em>, okay? I’m just balls to the wall, punch myself in the face, in love with Eddie <em>fucking</em> Kasbrak and I told him, and he couldn’t get away from me fast enough”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie drags his eyes up to look at Bev and she looks so fucking heartbroken it makes him want to throw himself into a volcano. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s that like?” Bev asks and the question blindsides Richie so much all he can do is make a weird “huhh?” sound.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s being in love like?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You don’t...you don’t know?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She shrugs and looks really sad.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, let me tell you, kid. It absolutely sucks ass” he says in his Charlton Heston voice, just to try and break the weird tension. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It must work a little because Beverly laughs and says, “why don’t you take a quick shower and then we can go hang out at the clubhouse. I hid a six pack there yesterday” she smiles, “so much better than that vodka stuff” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, ok”</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie’s hair is still wet when they leave his house, but it’s so hot out that by the time they arrive at the clubhouse, it’s dry. Beverly pulls up the trapdoor and gestures for him to climb down the ladder first.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“After you” she says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Just as his feet hit the uneven boards at the bottom, he looks up in time to see Bev, Bill and Stanley standing over the hatch looking down on him, only Stanley seems to have the decency to look ashamed and say “sorry, guys” as Beverly brazenly slams the door shut.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s for your own good” she yells and he can hear what sounds like chains.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What the fuck?” Says Richie, and he turns around and almost shits himself because Eddie is just sitting in the hammock looking at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is this a <em>trap</em>? What the hell? Beverly told me she had beer”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bill told me he had the new Spider-Man” Eddie says. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wow, we always got told not to follow strangers but nobody ever warned us about our own friends” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie stands awkwardly and wrings his hands. The silence goes on for way too long and he starts cataloging everything that’s in the clubhouse, to try and think of anything he could use to swiftly and efficiently kill himself with.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why are you looking around like that?” Eddie says after a while, “it’s freaking me out” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got successfully lured into a trap by the promise of a comic book?” Richie snorts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, well, I should have known you would be lured by illegal substances”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Beer isn’t illegal” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It is until you’re twenty-one”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It goes quiet again for a beat too long. Richie goes over and sits on the beanbag chair. There’s some bloodstains on the boards beneath his feet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, uh, what did you do with your shirt?” He says, “the bloody one”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“... my mom saw” Eddie presses his fingers against his forehead like he’s getting a headache, “I told her it wasn’t even my blood but she still dragged me to the emergency room. She made the doctor check me everywhere” he pauses, “<em>everywhere</em>”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from his stomach. He laughs until he gets a stitch, doubled over in the beanbag chair, clutching his ribs. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie says, “it’s not funny, asshole” over Richie’s laughter.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s a little funny” Richie points out, massaging his side, he feels like he might have cracked a rib, he laughed so hard.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So how long do you think they’ll make us stay down here?” Eddie asks, looking up at the trapdoor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I bet they haven’t actually locked it” Richie says, standing up. His knees pop, something that happens regularly since he had his last growth spurt. It makes Eddie wince. “They just don’t think we’ll bother to check”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He climbs up the ladder and shoves at the door with his forearm. It bends a little but stays shut. He can hear the chains clack.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He reels up and smacks the door with both palms, and his foot slips. </span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Henry Bowers is crowding him up against a wall, well, it’s a wall, then it’s the railings of the kissing bridge, then it’s a wall again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gonna carve you up like I did your fat friend” he says, but it’s not Henry’s voice, Richie thinks, it sounds like someone doing a bad impression of a high school bully, because he can’t fully remember what Henry sounds like, now. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He flicks a knife out of his pocket, “Richie and Eddie sitting in a tree” he sing-songs, “k-i-l-l-i-n-g” and somehow, even though he’s standing in front of him, he plunges the knife into the back of Richie’s head. </span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Help!” Eddie’s yelling and, boy, that makes Richie’s head thump painfully, “Stan? Bill? Are you guys there?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eds” he groans, “shut up” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh my fucking god” Eddie says, “I thought you <em>died</em>. You went so still”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m fine” Richie says, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head, “I just...wait, are you crying?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie angrily scrubs his eyes with the back of his hand and takes a shuddering breath, “you scared the shit out of me!” He yells and Richie cringes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m okay, I swear” Richie rolls his head a couple of times and works his jaw, “had a really weird dream though. It had Bowers in it”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Never mind, forget it” Richie sits up a little straighter, his ass hurts, “I’m fine. Were you really that worried?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course I was!” Eddie throws his hands up, “what would I do if you died?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Depends on how long the guys planned on keeping us down here” Richie says, “you might have had to eat me to survive”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I meant with my life” Eddie purses his lips and avoids his eyes and it’s kind of like that moment back when he’d said <em>none of them watch you as closely as I do.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So Richie says the same thing he’d said then, too, “hey, come here”</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie’s lips are soft and kind of cold considering how hot it is in the clubhouse. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie’s got both hands gripping the front of Eddie’s polo in case he tries to pull back but he doesn’t. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie kisses him back, soft at first, like he’s not sure, and then he presses in with a bit more urgency. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He grabs Richie’s hair at the nape of his neck. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your hair’s soft” he says against Richie’s mouth. His breath is hot and tastes minty, like he’s brushed his teeth recently, or been chewing gum.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bev forced me to wash it. She stood outside my bathroom and made sure I showered properly” Richie leans back and purses his lips thoughtfully, “she made me shave, too. I should probably thank her, in hindsight”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie shivers against him, “are we really going to talk about that <em>now</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck no” Richie grins and kisses him again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He pecks Eddie’s lips, once, twice and brushes the backs of his fingers against his cheek. Eddie seems to chase him when he pulls back, his eyes shut. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When gets his tongue inside Eddie’s mouth the sound Eddie makes travels straight to his dick.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie pitches his hips forward a little and Richie gasps, dropping his mouth to Eddie’s neck. The uneven floorboards are digging into the backs of his legs but he’s lacking the proper ability to care. He bites down and sucks hard and hopes that it’ll leave a mark that’ll last a while.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he drags his eyes back up, Eddie’s face is full of such obvious desperation that he feels like he might burst into flames at any moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you spontaneously combust from making out?” He asks hazily.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re such a loser” Eddie says, even though his hands are snaking up the front of Richie’s T-shirt. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah well, <em>you’re</em> the one who’s feeling up a loser. So that makes you even more...loser-y” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie arches an eyebrow and Richie seizes his moment, he grabs two handfuls of Eddie’s soft, pale thighs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck” he breathes when Eddie’s breath hitches, “you don’t even know how long I’ve wanted to do that” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s, ah!, weird” Eddie’s breathing hard, “really fucking weird” his fingers curl over the waistband of Richie’s jeans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Feeling bold, Richie moves his hand to Eddie’s dick. He presses the front of his shorts and he wants to burn the way Eddie inhales into his ears forever.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, can I, uh, jerk you off?” He says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What if the others come back?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Then they’ll get a show” says Richie, and then he swears when Eddie punches him in the arm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit, okay!” He holds his hands up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie chews his lip, the lip Richie was just <em>kissing</em>, <em>holy shit</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay” He says.</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie has his shorts halfway down his thighs and he’s kneeling in Richie’s lap. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His fingers are digging pretty hard into Richie’s shoulders and he doesn’t mind at all that it hurts. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s got his fingers wrapped around Eddie’s dick.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh fuck” he breathes into Richie’s hair, “shit”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s making these little ‘mm’ sounds that are making Richie so rock hard that he thinks he’s going to go crazy. Not quite Henry Bowers, murder your dad with a switchblade crazy, but close. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Eds?” He breathes, “could you...would you touch me, too?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie stills, then shifts back so he’s looking at Richie, his eyes are huge and his pupils are dilated and Richie wonders if he looks as wrecked as Eddie does. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie leans forward and kisses him, while undoing the fly of Richie’s jeans and pulling his dick out with both hands. He moves his wrist and Richie makes a loud, embarrassing sound that’s he’s going to deny if Eddie brings it up later. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s awkward, and fumbling, and Richie blows his load in about five seconds.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie looks down at his hand with disgust.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie’s laughter leaves him in a burst, and he keeps laughing at Eddie scowling at him, hand covered in jizz, boner in full view.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s not fucking funny” Eddie says.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I love you” says Richie, “I really fucking do”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He kisses the scowl off of Eddie’s face, and strokes his dick hard and fast, until Eddie’s moaning into his mouth and coming all over Richie’s hand.</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They sit in the hammock until Bev comes back to let them out with congratulatory wolf whistles, Eddie between Richie’s legs, his back against Richie’s chest. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“When we get back to my room” Richie says into his ear, “I’m going to suck your dick” and he watches Eddie go scarlet.</span>
</p><p class="p2">*</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So did you guys kiss and make up?” Mike says and Richie almost spits out his chips. Eddie looks as red as the salsa in the bowl in front of him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I mean, you guys are cool now, right?” Mike grins, and winks, and Eddie mumbles something that sounds like, “<em>So does everyone fucking know</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, you heard about it right? Beverly, Bill and our once innocent little Stanley all banded together in a devious, <em>nefarious</em> plan to keep us trapped down here for <em>days</em>” says Richie, hand against his heart, brow furrowed for dramatic effect.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bev rolls her eyes, “it was an hour, tops” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay, sure” Richie grins, “but to answer your earlier question, Michael, we not only made up, we made <em>out</em>! In fact, some of you may be sitting in some very questionable stains right now”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re fucking disgusting” Stan says wrinkling his nose.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Richie grins over at Bev who rolls her eyes, but smiles. She’s sitting a little further away from Bill, and a little closer to Ben. He makes a mental note to ask her about that later.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eddie shifts and his knee touches Richie’s, and Richie reaches out to hook their pinkies together. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>1) I fuckin’ love Nirvana<br/>2) Thank you for reading</p></blockquote></div></div>
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